


Out Country Coffee

by skytramp



Category: Mortal Engines Series - Philip Reeve
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/skytramp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hester is the lone barista at Out Country coffee, a very slow and somewhat dilapidated coffee shop run by the tall and scary Mr. Shrike. </p><p>She'd always hoped things would change, she just didn't expect to like the change she got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wind

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I don't know if there's something that lends itself _less_ to a coffee shop AU than Mortal Engines, but did that stop me? Nahhh

Hester’s fist slammed into the espresso machine for the third time that morning. It was acting up, it _always_ was acting up and no matter how many times she punched it it wouldn’t stop sputtering and spewing an undrinkable black ooze from its nozzles. 

The coffee shop was empty, it was mid morning and other shops were full to bursting but Out Country Coffee was almost always slow. Hester knew it probably was because of her (lack of) customer service skills, or maybe that the owner, Mr. Shrike was so menacing with his severe black suits and his green eyes that almost looked like they glowed, but she couldn’t help but hope that any day now her luck would turn around. 

She heard the bell jingle as the front door slammed open, caught by an errant gust of wind after it was pulled by a man who looked to be little more than a pile of papers and a sweater. He was juggling multiple notebooks with loose papers and attempting to pull shut the stubborn door with one hand and wrangle his parcels with the other. Hester laughed loudly as she watched him struggle. Another minute or so passed before she saw her boss, Mr. Shrike coming up the sidewalk. He was more than a foot taller than the customer and as he pulled the door shut behind them she heard the smaller man offering his thanks. 

Mr. Shrike nodded at Hester solemnly and crossed behind the counter to go to his office. The customer dropped his bundle of papers and notebooks on a small table, readjusted his sweater and attempted to flatten his hair before approaching the counter where Hester waited. 

“What can I get you?” She called out in a flat voice. She waited for him to look down from the menu board. She waited for the inevitable flinch when he saw the large scar that disfigured her face, but it never came.

“A little help with the door would have been nice.” He said dryly, but he didn’t truly seem angry. 

“What? And waste the little entertainment I can get in this place? Not a chance.” He was still looking at her, she noticed, but she never saw him flinch away. She didn’t see his eyes skirt to focus on her collarbone, or her hands, or back at the menu board, as most customers did. 

“Fair enough.” He said, “What’s good here, anyhow?” 

His hair was still sticking up oddly around his temples, although he kept running his hand through it as if it was a nervous compulsion. He was actually rather pleasant to look at, once one stopped laughing long enough to notice, she mused.  
“Anything without espresso. Unless you fancy a cup of black ooze that may or may not rot your guts.”

He grimaced in faux disgust. “Ooh, no thanks on that. Maybe just a latte?” 

“Coming right up.” She said and turned away to begin making the drink. She stopped and turned back. “Oh, name?” She held a marker in one hand and his cup in the other.

“Tom.”

“Alright, Tom, coming right up.”

When she turned her back again she felt her face go warm. There was no reason, not really. She shouldn’t want to smile just because some relatively cute guy was nice to her. That wasn’t _normal_. Normal girls probably would have smiled back at him when he smiled, maybe even flirted. _Stupid,_ she thought, _it’s stupid to even think he’d be interested._

She finished his drink and slammed it on the counter hard enough that the top almost dislodged and a bit of coffee splashed up through the small hole in the lid.

“Latte for Tom.” She said, though he still stood by the counter and they were alone in the shop. 

He picked it up hesitantly and smiled at her again. _Why does he keep doing that?_

“Thanks, um,” He leaned his head slightly sideways, “Hester, is it? Thanks, Hester.”

She felt a flush creep into her cheeks which she knew looked patchy and strange around the scar tissue and she turned away quickly.

“You’re welcome.”


	2. Regulars

Tom had been coming to the coffee shop now 3 times a week for 3 weeks. Hester didn’t understand his frequency, or why he didn’t go to any of a number of other places, places with working espresso machines, or pretty baristas. He would come in, always with his pile of papers and books, order a simple coffee, and sit for a few hours perusing the papers at his small table near the door. 

Today was unusually busy. All three of their regular customers, Tom, a small woman with short green hair, and an older, stern looking man with a cane, were seated at their separate tables while Hester wiped the counter. The other two customer’s were a bit of an enigma that Hester tried not to spend too much time thinking about. One always arrived within ten minutes of the other, they never spoke and always sat at separate tables but Hester swore they took turns looking at each other over the rims of their coffee cups. 

Tom was another thing altogether, Hester thought. He still smiled at her. She would call out “Latte for Tom” or “Coffee, two cream for Tom” and he would smile and say “Thank you, Hester” and she would try not to blush at the sound of her name on his lips. 

Blushing wasn’t something Hester was used to. Her first 22 years of life hadn’t been particularly kind (the word traumatic was often bandied about) and this whole _positive emotions_ thing was mostly new to her.

The man and the woman left (precisely two minutes apart, Hester noted) and Tom was left alone in the small coffee shop. Hester grabbed a damp towel and went to wipe their newly vacated tables. Tom looked up and she avoided eye contact as she walked past him to a dirty table. 

“How are you, today, Hester?” His voice made her jump. 

“Fine.” She replied, continuing to wipe the table.

“That’s good.” He said, still chipper, seemingly oblivious to her uncordial tone. “Do you think they work together?”

She stopped wiping and looked up at him blankly.

“Those two, the ones that just left, do you think they work together? They seem to always show up and leave together, I was wondering if you knew.” He smiled again and she looked back down at the table. 

“I don’t know.” She said as she finished wiping that table. She crossed the room to the other table, this one behind where Tom sat, and she was surprised to see him turn around in his chair to face her.

“They must though, right? How else could two strangers come and go at the same time each day? That would be too big of a coincidence.” She could hear the smile in his voice. _He’s still smiling._

She stood up straight and looked at him. “I don’t make it my mission to nose into my customer’s business. If those two want to come here every day and take turns staring at each other, what do I care? As long as they don’t get naked or start throwing things everything is fine by me.” She didn’t know if it was her angry tone or the content of her words but Tom looked down at his hands, clasped around his coffee cup, and his face looked a little red. Perhaps she’d made him angry.

He didn’t respond and she continued to wipe the table clean. When she was done she went back behind the counter. 

A few minutes passed as Tom went back to peering at his paperwork and Hester aimlessly wiped the counter for the hundredth time. Hester was, once again, alternating between violence and verbal abuse towards the broken espresso machine when she noticed Tom stacking his papers in preparation to leave. 

She watched him from the corner of her good eye as he left his stacked papers on the table and approached the counter.

“Er, excuse me, Hester?” He sounded more timid than he had earlier, and she turned to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Would you, I mean, would you like to go to dinner with me? Sometime? I mean, probably sometime soon, maybe tomorrow? If you’re free.” He rambled until his voice eventually faded out.

Hester could feel the heat in her cheeks again and she was speechless. She paused, turning away from him slightly and looking down. She heard the rustle of fabric as Tom fished a slip of paper out of his pants pocket and slid it across the counter. 

“You don’t have to answer right away, okay? Just, you can call me if you want, or text, whatever you prefer.” He turned back to his table, grabbed his papers and dashed out the door before Hester could form a single word.

She watched her own hand shake as she gripped the small paper on the counter. On it was scrawled a number and his name. _Tom Natsworthy_.


	3. Pacing

Hester was pacing back and forth in her cramped living room. The room held a couch, a television older than she was, and just enough room to pace between the two. 

“Hes’, you’re going to wear out the floor if you keep pacing like that!” Hester’s half sister Katherine said as she stretched out on her stomach on the small couch. Katherine’s dark hair splayed against the pillow as she buried her face in it.

“It’s my floor I can do what I want.” 

“Just call him!” Katherine’s said, muffled by the pillow.

“I shouldn’t have told you anyway, why did I tell you? Also why are you here? I never invite you you’re just always on my couch and eating my food.”

Katherine rolled on her side to watch Hester pace. “Because I’m your only friend. Also because I’m your only engaged friend and of course if you need advice about guys I would be the first person you’d go to. And I’m family so family means an open invitation to your couch and your cupboards.”

“I don’t need _advice about guys_ , Kate, I just need you to tell me what to do about this _one_ guy.”

“Hester.” Katherine sat up, sounding serious, “I can’t tell you what to do because it’s not _me_ he asked out. It was you. Gods know why he did since you’re ridiculously unfriendly, but maybe he’s a masochist, who knows. _Just call him_!”

“Can’t you have Pod like, research him or something, look him up in a database?” 

“He works for the government, yes, but you _know_ he’s not in espionage. My fiance is a nerd who spends all day working with plants. Just stop stalling and call the boy already!”

Hester groaned and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She fished out the small piece of paper as well and held them both in her hands. She groaned again and slumped her shoulders. 

“I’ll text him.”

“No, Hes’, texting is lame! You need to call him he needs to hear your sexy voice.” Katherine protested.

“Shut up. I’m texting him.” She typed his number into a new message.

_[hi, it’s hester, from the coffee shop.]_

She hit send. Only a few seconds later her phone dinged in reply and Katherine squealed slightly.

“Is it him? Is it him?” She nearly screamed. Hester looked back at her phone.

“Yeah. It’s him.”

_[hi Hester! Thanks for texting me, I’m really happy to hear from you. So, how about it, you up for dinner?]_

He seems much more confident in text, she thought. And there was the question again. He hadn’t changed his mind, it seemed. It had been roughly 12 hours and he still thought he wanted take her on a date. 

Katherine interrupted her thoughts by jumping off the couch and reaching for the phone. “What does it say?! Tell me, what does it say?”

Hester held the phone above her head and backed away, nearly tripping over the TV table in the process. 

“Back off, you idiot, I hardly had a chance to read it!”

She looked at the phone again as Katherine sat on the couch, hands folded in her lap, pretending to be civil. She typed out a reply.

_[yeah, I’d like to. When and where?]_

She hit send and instantly regretted it. What if she sounded too eager? What if it was an elaborate joke, a prank? She didn’t have too much time to stew in her inner turmoil before her phone dinged again.

_[Great! Meet outside Out Country at 6 tomorrow? There’s a restaurant nearby that we can walk to, if that’s fine.]_

_[ok]_

Hester felt her face go hot. She did it. She made actual date plans with the weirdly cute regular at work. Okay maybe he was just cute, normal cute not weirdly cute. 

Katherine still sat with her hands in her lap but she was bouncing now, biting her lip and trying not to explode, it looked like. When Hester put her phone away and looked up Katherine couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“So?” She said loudly.

“We’re meeting tomorrow.”

Katherine screamed and jumped up, hugging Hester tightly. 

“Oh Hes’, I’m so happy for you!!!” She squealed in Hester’s ear.

_So, tomorrow,_ she thought bitterly. And then she froze. 

“What am I supposed to wear?!”


	4. Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whispers *nagone* into the wind

Oenone Zero walked into Out Country Coffee about fifteen minutes later than usual. Mr. Naga was already seated at his usual table, his head bent, intent on a book that appeared to be about various birds, judging by the pictures she could see. She ordered her coffee from the barista. The girl seemed oddly jumpy today, her normal surly demeanor slightly warmer and less menacing. 

Oenone took her normal table and sipped her coffee. Mr. Naga, formerly General Naga, senior partner at Shield Wall Environmental Law was seated directly across from her. She didn’t remember which of them started coming to this coffee shop first, but Oenone never missed the chance to observe Mr. Naga. He wasn’t her target, not truly, but he was close to her and Oenone’s mission is critical. She was a junior partner herself, the youngest in the company’s history, and she spent every lunch hour and break time making observations that would bring her firm to its knees. 

She took a drink of her coffee, careful not to burn her tongue, and looked over the rim of the cup at Naga. His nose was still buried in his book, which she now saw was titled _Wild Birds of Eurasia_ , and he drank his tea absentmindedly. He was an older man, she guessed probably mid forties. His face was lined but still handsome, he had strong features that made him appear solemn even when he smiled.

She wanted desperately to believe that Naga wasn’t involved with the founding partner’s plans. Anna Fang, nicknamed “Stalker” by rivals and allies alike, was tall, stern and terrifying. And Oenone knew her fanaticism would soon be taken to new, frightening levels. She’d taken it upon herself to stop the woman, even if that meant potential disbarment. She had to do what was right. 

Naga seemed like a good man, maybe a little too serious, but practicing the ever growing futility that was environmental law for 15 years would do that to anyone. She’d been observing him whenever she had the chance for the last month and so far he’d done nothing to be suspicious of. He drank tea, sometimes ate lunch, occasionally read a book, but he never met with anyone, never took any phone calls. 

Truthfully Oenone’s excuse to watch him was growing thin at this point. He wasn’t truly a suspect in her mind any more, she didn’t think she could use him for his insider knowledge of Fang or her dealings, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop watching him either. 

At some point she’d developed a very unhealthy crush.

The barista, Hester, began to wipe the table between hers and Naga’s, temporarily blocking her view and making her notice just how hard she was staring. She looked at her phone and saw she had ten minutes to get back to the office, a task that usually took about twelve. She stood up quickly, dumped her coffee cup in a trash bin while nodding politely at Hester and ran outside. 

She heard fast paced footsteps behind her but she didn’t turn. 

“Zero!” She heard a gruff voice say from behind her. She stopped and turned. It was Naga, nearly panting at the exertion from chasing after her.

“Yes, sir?” She replied, walking back towards him so he could catch his breath.

“We should sit together.” His voice was flat and unemotional.

“Sit… together?”

“Yes. We both go to the same place at the same time, we are colleagues, we should sit together next time.” He nodded, seemingly to reassure himself that what he was saying was logical.

“Oh, okay, sir, next time we’ll sit together.” She bowed her head at him slightly and ran away, towards the office. She told herself she ran because she was going to be late for work, not because her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest.


	5. Closing

It was 4:45PM and Hester was frantic. She’d asked Mr. Shrike if they could close a half hour early today, at 5 instead of 5:30, so she would be able to go home and change before Tom showed up. He’d agreed, which should have lessened her anxiety but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

Closing the shop meant locking up and going home, and then finding something not coffee-stained to wear, and then she’d be out there, on the sidewalk, waiting for a guy. A guy who may or may not actually show up, Hester thought, _he’s got no reason to show up_.

The phone on the counter rang and Hester almost jumped out of her skin. She dropped her rag on the nearest table and grabbed the phone.

“Out Country Coffee.” She answered in a monotone. 

“Hes!” The voice on the phone screamed and Hester rolled her eyes.

“Kate.” She replied. 

“Oh my, is he there yet?” She squealed.

“No, he’s not here, he’s not going to be here until 6, gods, Kate, I haven’t even closed up the shop and I still have to change my clothes.” Hester tried to keep the nervous shake from her voice as she thought about what the next hour would bring.

“Did you pick what you’re wearing?” Katherine asked excitedly.

“Yeah.” 

“Well? What is it?”

“Why do you care?” Hester drawled.

“Because I’m your sister, gods damn it and also your only friend and also your personal fashion adviser.” Hester could hear the smile in her voice. “Now, _what are you wearing tonight?_ ”

“My cleanest jeans and that red button up shirt. And a black scarf.” She said. She knew it was pointless to try and get Kate off her case now, not when she was invested. She was more stubborn than Hester sometimes, _must be a family trait_.

“Oh, no, no, Hes!” Katherine sounded as if something truly traumatic was happening to her. “You can _not_ wear that! Those are just your normal clothes! I know for a fact you’ve worn that exact outfit to work before.”

“I don’t have anything else--” Hester knew it was a mistake before she finished the sentence.

“I will be at your apartment when you get home, with most of my wardrobe!” Katherine sounded positively jubilant at the thought of dragging her clothes across town to play dress up with her baby sister. 

Katherine hung up before Hester could fight the inevitable. She groaned as she set the phone on the receiver. 

A half hour later Hester unlocked her front door to find Katherine sprawled on a pile of clothes on her couch. There looked to be more clothes under and around Katherine than in the entirety of Hester’s closet. 

She groaned dramatically as she shut the door.

“Okay, Kate, I’ve got a half hour until I need to leave to get back to the shop on time. You cannot go crazy. Please give me..” she paused, thinking of a reasonable number, “ _two_ outfits to choose from. I will choose, and then I will leave. And then _you_ will leave and take your clothes with you.”

Twenty five minutes and seven outfits later Hester pushed past Katherine out the door of her apartment. After a vehement battle where Hester blatantly refused to wear a dress, Katherine ended up forcing her into a pair of jeans slightly tighter than she would have chosen and a white blouse with some frills near the neckline. She’d insisted on her scarf, but Katherine made her wear the red one, rather than the black one. 

When she reached Out Country Coffee she could see a huddled figure near the door. Upon closer examination it was Tom, his arm crossed around his body to keep in the warmth as he looked the opposite way down the street.

Hester walked up a few feet behind him before he turned around. 

“Oh-oh!” He gasped and uncrossed and then re-crossed his arms. 

“Hi, I’m not late, am I?” She said. She knew she wasn’t late though, in fact, if anything she was early, Tom had just been earlier. 

“No! No, not at all. I was, I mean, I got here early.” He stuttered and she watched as his eyes flitted over the blouse and back to her face. She probably looked ridiculous. She would remember to yell at Katherine later.

“You look really nice tonight. I mean, you always look nice but this is...nicer.” Tom said, looking her in the eyes for once. 

She would have to thank Katherine later. 

“Thank you.” She said quietly. “Um, shall we..?” She trailed off.

“Oh! Yes, yeah, this way.” He said, pointing down the road, and he looped his arm around hers as they began to walk.


	6. Fairylights

Hester could feel the heat from his hand through her thin jacket. She wasn’t used to being touched often and it felt strange, but not unwelcome. They didn’t talk as they walked but she thought she heard Tom mumble something once or twice along the way.

The restaurant was small, apparently mediterranean, with an outdoor seating area of tables with striped umbrellas. A tattered sign reading, inexplicably “Gasbag and Gondola” hung from the building. 

Tom led her to a table with a placard that read “reserved” and they took their seats. Within seconds a casually uniformed waiter brought them menus and Tom thanked him graciously.

Hester felt awkward as she held the menu in front of her face and scanned its contents. She thought she felt eyes on her, on them. There were only two other groups of patrons on the patio but she was almost certain they were judging what _she_ was doing here with _him_.

After about a minute Tom folded his menu and crossed his hands on top of it. She peered at him over the top of the menu.

“I come here a lot,” he said by way of explanation. “I already knew what I wanted before looking at the menu, really.” He smiled and she didn’t know how to respond so she hid behind her menu again.

He _really_ needed to stop looking at her like she was something… special. 

The waiter returned and Hester picked the first thing off the menu she saw after Tom ordered his usual. Without the menu to hide behind she felt vulnerable and fiddled with the ends of her scarf. The sun was beginning to go down and the patio glowed with fairy lights wrapped around trellises that served as walls. 

“So, Hester, do you… have any hobbies?” She thought he sounded hesitant, maybe even nervous like she felt but that thought was quickly pushed away as she considered her answer. _Did_ she have any hobbies? 

She worked, usually every day, she spent time with Kate, not usually by choice, Kate took her shopping, to movies, forced her to be social. She remembered a time in high school when she’d experimented with painting. That had been interesting, a way to express herself that didn’t require words or any real coherence of feelings. She didn’t have to think, and it was thinking that got her in so much trouble. 

On a whim she answered, “Painting.” and tried to ignore the sure redness in her cheeks and how her scar would go whiter as it crossed the bridge of her nose.

“Really?” He sounded genuinely interested. “I can’t do anything creative to save my life. I read a lot, history mostly, some historical fiction. There was a time when I wanted to be a writer but I realized I don’t have the talent for it. What sort of things do you paint?” 

_Now you’ve done it, Hester,_ she thought.

“Well, I like painting, I haven’t actually painted in…” She counted the years, figured it was better to be honest, “seven years? I used to do landscapes mostly, I don’t really like people.”

His laugh was loud and honest and it took her a few seconds to realize it was her simple statement about not liking people that he found so entertaining. 

“How do you work customer service then?” He was still smiling and almost out of breath from his laugh.

“You’ve seen the type of business we get.” She replied. “If Mr. Shrike hadn’t practically raised me I doubt I’d be his first choice of barista.”

“Mr. Shrike? Is that the tall, scary looking guy who helped me that one time?”

Hester recalled the memory of that windy day, and how entertaining it had been to watch Tom flail around trying not to lose his arm full of paperwork to the wayward winds. 

“Oh yeah, he’s the owner. He was also my unofficial foster dad for a few years when I was a kid. Long story.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

They fell into an easy conversation, helped along by Tom’s ceaseless chattery optimism and Hester found herself almost smiling her crooked smile at him across the table by the time their food was delivered. 

The food was good, spicy and rich in flavor and Hester had to get two drink refills before she could feel her tongue again. Tom had laughed and she had come to the conclusion that she’d willingly embarrass herself dozens of more times if he would laugh like that each time. 

By the time the meal had ended and Tom took her arm again she wound her fingers through his instead. They walked again in silence back to the, now fully dark, Out Country Coffee. 

They stopped walking but Tom still held her hand. 

“Do you want me to walk you all the way home?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, no I’m fine, I’m tougher than I look.” 

“I doubt it, you look really tough.” He joked, smiling again. 

She smiled at that and untangled her fingers from his in order to step away. As they separated he caught her wrist and pulled for her to turn towards him. 

He leaned forward quickly and pecked her scarred cheek before letting go of her wrist and turning his head sharply to look away. 

“Can we see each other again?” He asked this time and she definitely heard the nerves in his voice.

“I’d… really like that, “ she admitted, “you can text me, if you want. And of course I’ll be here whenever you need coffee.” 

He looked back at her and his eyes were wide in happy excitement. 

He nodded, “Yes! I’ll definitely text you. And get coffee. I’ll see you soon!” He said, and turned and walked quickly away before she could respond. 

By the time she reached her apartment and sank back against her closed door her heart was still beating out of her chest. Not even the uneven pile of Kate’s clothes still on her couch could dishearten her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter this time! whoops, I couldn't fit the date into 600 words and I figured I'd put it off long enough already.


	7. confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BET YALL THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THIS
> 
>  
> 
> (no im just terrible and I'm sorry)

Oenone’s office was small, with a window in the corner that didn’t have a view of anything aside from a parking lot, and a metal desk that was forever unkind to unwary hips or knees that passed by it. She ran a hand through her short hair as she glanced at the clock again.

It was 11:15, she had five minutes until her lunch break. For once her thoughts were more on the possibility of sitting with Jiang Naga than on gathering information to take down CEO Fang. 

She flipped through the papers on her desk, glancing through settlements for three of her current cases, and the other two which would be settled in court. It was a lot to handle, but she hadn’t clawed her way to junior partner without a superior capacity to handle stressful situations. 

As the last five minutes passed she glanced at the clock precisely 15 times before grabbing her purse and hurrying from the office. Before she could make it to the elevator she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned, only to be face to shoulder with Anna Fang. 

“Ms. Zero, where are you going in such a hurry?” She asked, and Oenone took a step back to look up at her face. Her features were soft, but severe, in a way that spoke of metal shaped to be beautiful. Her lipstick matched the deep red of her suit precisely, Oenone noticed, as Ms. Fang smiled down at her. 

“Oh! Um, I’m going to lunch… ma’am.” She added quickly. The authority in every inch of the CEO’s being was apparent, oozing through her pores and it was something Oenone couldn’t ignore. She felt even smaller than she was. 

“I’d like to meet with you after lunch, then. I believe we have some things to discuss.” She nodded at the end of her sentence, as if she was agreeing with herself, and didn’t wait for Oenone to reply before stepping sharply to the side and leaving her standing there alone. 

She exited the elevator to the wide open lobby with its marble floors and walked quickly with her head down until she ran into a large and unyielding surface. 

“Ah! Mr. Naga, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” She took a few steps back and smoothed the front of her shirt. She tried to keep her voice level but it shook. 

“No harm done.” He replied, and he looked at her as if expecting her to speak. “Shall we...?”

She looked at him with a confused expression for a few seconds before remembering she was on her way to lunch… with him, and then nodded quickly. “Yes! I mean, yes. I was just on my way to meet you.”

They walked slowly, her at the normal pace of her shorter legs and him with the slightly limping gait of a man with a cane, until they reached Out Country Coffee. He gestured towards a table for her to sit before going to the counter and ordering both of their drinks. The barista behind the counter looked less angry than usual, and Oenone was almost curious enough to ask what the good news was. 

Naga returned with two cups, and Oenone wasn’t surprised to find her usual drink in the cup he handed to her. 

“You know, this building used to be a restaurant.” Naga said, without preamble, and Oenone looked up at him. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. It was, er, a long time ago, probably too long for you to remember, but it was very bad, terrible honestly.” 

Oenone laughed and Naga smiled a little at the encouragement before he continued. “I only went there twice, once on my own, and once with a colleague who brought me against my will. If I remember right I was sick both times.”

She laughed again and he laughed with her. Somehow the conversation came easily after that, and they finished their drinks with smiles on their faces before walking back to work together. They had an elevator to themselves as it took them to their prospective floors and when Oenone stepped off at her floor she turned back to him. 

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“I look forward to it.” He said.


End file.
